


Fusion and Dissolution

by Meatball42



Category: King Lear - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8388967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: Edmund is a bastard, by both meanings of the word. But that only means he’ll fit right in with these mad people.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



“I thought the King was showing preference to the Albany Corporation, not Cornwall Industries.” Mr. Kent leaned forward in his chair, watching the senior department head with interest. He took a swig of one of those supposedly healthy energy drinks and Edmund refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead, he stared through the massive windows of the conference room at the majestic New York City skyline and tried to ignore his father's response.

“We all thought so,” Edward Gloucester replied with a thoughtful expression. “But the recent reports from both groups have been so equal in all respects that it's difficult to predict who'll get the lion's share.”

In Edmund's peripheral vision, he saw Mr. Kent glance at him _yet again_. “Isn't this your son, Mr. Gloucester?” he finally asked.

“I've been the one to raise him,” Edmund's father answered, and Edmund never even had to try anymore to keep his true emotions from showing on his face. “I'm not proud to admit it, but the boy isn't my wife's.”

Edmund's practiced gaze took in Mr. Kent's confusion and realization, the mix of shame and pride on his father's face. _'If it bothers you so much, why do you go around announcing it to the world,_ Dad?'

“However, my son with my wife is a year older, though of course we don't emphasize the differences in their births,” Edmund's father finished. Finally, he swiveled his chair to Edmund. “Have you met Earl Kent, son?”

 _'As if you don't already know,'_ Edmund thought nastily. He schooled his tone. “No, Father.”

“Kent works directly under Mr. Brittany,” Edmund's father introduced with a wide, mostly fake smile. “He's a very smart man, we're lucky to have him working with us.” A tightness around his eyes ordered Edmund to make a good impression.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Edmund said with a polite smile, offering his hand.

Kent shook it, looking him over with interest. “The pleasure is mine. I'm looking forward to getting to know you, if you'll be working at the company?” He looked to Edmund's father for confirmation.

“I'm very much looking forward to it, sir,” Edmund said earnestly, earning a quick frown from his father. _'Too much?'_

“He's been getting business experience in Albany, and he might spend some more time out there.” A flurry of noise from outside the conference room caught his attention, and Edmund glared at the back of his father's head. “The King is coming.”

The solid oak double doors were opened by a temp and the merger party entered. Mr. Brittany, the President of Brittany Company, who was more commonly referred to by his first name, Lear, or by 'The King,' strode in first as though he owned the place—with good reason. Edmund took in his bespoke suit, styled hair, and the thousands of dollars’ worth of accessories from his shoes to his platinum cufflinks and nodded unconsciously. Despite his age, Lear was one of the most powerful men in America, and it showed.

Behind Lear were his three daughters, the chief officers and inheritors of the King's megacorporation. Goneril and Regan, the elder daughters, were dressed similarly to their father in power suits that demanded whatever respect and authority their regal bearings didn't immediately afford them. Their husbands walked beside them, and if the Oxford English Dictionary needed a photo beside their definition of 'power couple,' Edmund was sure these pairs were the ideal.

A few steps behind them and looking almost lost in thought, Lear's youngest daughter entered the conference room. Everything about Cordelia was softer than her sisters, from the gentler cut of her suit to her light make-up. Edmund narrowed his eyes, though, and saw a stubborn set to the woman's jaw that was a mirror image of the man now standing at the head of the conference table.

“Gloucester, would you go wait for Armorica and Burgundy?” Lear requested. His voice, steeped in authority, made the question an order despite his intention and Edmund's father practically sprang to do the King's bidding.

“Absolutely, sir.” As he exited, he shot Edmund a look that recalled the multiple lectures about the importance of this meeting and how he'd better pay attention and act well, or else it would reflect on his father's reputation.

Edmund felt his ears going red with anger, but took pains to show only interest in the proceedings unfolding before him.

“Right now, let's get down to business,” Lear declared. His assistant unrolled a diagrammatic representation of Britten Company and began arranging some important documents along the table for the others present. “We all know that I'm getting older, and that I've decided to divide my company among my daughters, who I have faith will care for it better than I am able.”

Edmund examined the King. The man was in his early- or mid-seventies, and his age was definitely showing in the way he walked, as though he were stiff but refused to acknowledge it. But Edmund had seen men older than Lear sign papers with shaking hands that transferred billions of dollars of assets and prospects. He decided to keep a close eye on Lear to try and divine why he was so determined to give up his life's work.

“Cornwall, Albany—my sons,” Lear continued, “When I entrust my company to my daughters, I am entrusting it to your corporations as well. I know you will ensure that your mergers take place with the utmost respect for Brittany Company’s loyal workers. Now,” he said, and a true smile spread over his face. “We all know that my youngest daughter, Cordelia, has been searching for the third and last corporation to merge with Brittany Company. François Armorica and Greg Burgundy have expressed interest in this merger.” Lear’s proud smile and crafty expression indicated that he was planning more than just a merger for Cordelia, Edmund noticed.

“My daughters.” The pride and love in Lear’s eyes was visible for all to see as he gazed at each of his daughters in turn. Edmund swallowed, and his hands, folded politely on the conference table before him, clenched subtly. “As I embark on this final step, divesting myself of the leadership of the Company, corporate interest, caretaking duties—I invite you all to say a few words of love to your father, before I make the final decisions on the Company’s split. Goneril, as the oldest, you may speak first.”

As the tall brunette stood and carefully smoothed her midnight-blue suit, Edmund continued to watch Lear. He has sat down in his seat at the head of the table and was looking up at his daughter, entirely rapt. Edmund bit back a bitter scowl at the image of Lear showing so much dependence on his daughter’s words in the middle of a formal meeting.

“Father, I love you more than words can say,” Goneril began, smiling beautifully down on her father. “More than my vision, more than my freedom, more than anything can be valued in this world—and we all know just how much that can be.” The assembled crowd chuckled as if they had been cued. Edmund looked around him and discovered that the entire room was watching Goneril as though entranced. He resumed listening with a new measure of respect—and intrigue.

“…so much that I find my breath failing me as I speak.” Goneril placed a hand on her chest and a small sob could be heard. Her husband Albany took her hand, and she squeezed it gratefully. “I love you, father, beyond all measure words can describe.” She stepped around the table to kiss Lear on the cheek and give him a long hug, while the room applauded.

 _'Elegant,’_ Edmund decided, _‘but if that was honest, I’m the Commander-in-Chief.’_ Across the table, he caught sight of Cordelia muttering to herself as Lear announced Goneril’s portion of the Company.  _‘Strange girl,'_ he thought.

By now, Regan had stood up. Shorter than her sister, in midnight black with loosely-tied blonde hair, Regan was the beauty of the family. She stared at her father and spread out her arms like a welcome, then spoke with such fluidity and grace that Edmund was the one entranced.

“Father, my sister and I share the same blood, and I have in my heart all the same sentiments. But I find that she states them too short—I profess that I cannot enjoy any luxury or blessing of this Earth. I am happy only when I am with you.”

A surge of jealousy nearly overcame Edmund’s façade as he saw Lear’s shining eyes, his expression of devotion, and Regan’s tender look when she hugged him. He couldn’t watch as Lear granted Regan her portion of the Company and found himself nearly glaring at Cordelia, who was again talking to herself.

“And now, my pride and joy, my youngest daughter,” Lear announced. He had the look of a man being visited by an angel, and he watched his youngest daughter with all expectation of a miracle. “Cordelia, who has drawn two Fortune 500 companies to our door, what can you say that will earn you a portion greater than your sisters?”

Cordelia stood shakily, her dark hair falling over her shoulders until she brushed it nervously away. Edmund could not help a small frown from showing through. ' _This girl, who shows no more confidence and decorum on the floor than a green intern, is getting the greatest part of Brittany Company?’_ He shot a look at the older sisters, but the both wore the same expression of interest and faked familial affection. Edmund was struck by the realization that the pair, who had looked so friendly and loving when they’d sat down beside one another, were just as ambitious and cunning as he himself was. _‘Maybe I will enjoy working at Brittany,’_ he thought with a secret smile.

Cordelia took a deep breath and finally answered her father’s question. “Nothing.”

The room was still. Edmund, along with everyone else, looked down the table toward the King. “Nothing?” he repeated.

“Nothing,” Cordelia affirmed. Her face was pale, her lips bitten red, and her shoulders squared in defiance. Edmund was impressed. _‘She’s got more backbone than I thought!’_

“Nothing will come of nothing,” Lear said slowly, a warning edging his voice. “Speak again.”

“I’m very sorry, but I can’t turn my heart into words,” Cordelia said intensely. She stared at her father, ignoring everyone else in the room. “I love you just as much as a daughter should, no more or less.”

_‘This is better than HBO.’_

“Change your speech, Cordelia.” Lear sat up in his chair until he was nearly stiff. The authority that had faded as his elder sisters spoke returned by the truckload, until his regality could have filled the conference room and spilled out onto Wall Street. “Unless you want to damage your fortune.”

“Father, you raised me, loved me. I return those duties as a daughter is obliged, and I obey you, love you and honor you. The way my sisters talk you’d think they didn’t have husbands to whom they’ve already pledged their love and dedication! When I get married, my poor husband will only receive half of the love, care and duty that he deserves because the rest of mine is yours! I should never marry!” she cried passionately, “so I can love you forever!”

Nearly in tears, Cordelia stood alone in the silence.

Lear’s wrinkled face was clenched in fury, a deep crevasse in his forehead cut like a gouge across his soul. “And you swear by these words?”

“Yes, Father.” Cordelia trembled.

“So young and cruel?”

“Young and true, Father!” the girl gasped.

“So it is,” Lear replied. He stood slowly, old limbs strong with rage and authority. “Then let the truth be your inheritance, and here it is: by God,” his voice shook, “I disclaim all paternal care, I disclaim your blood, and I hold you a stranger from my heart forever.”

The uproar among the Brittany Company executives drowned out the rest of his words. Cordelia began to cry, her sisters begged for forgiveness, their husbands argued about the Company’s assets, Lear’s assistant declared that Lear’s decision would throw the business into chaos, and Mr. Kent tried to calm everyone down, to no avail.

Edmund leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself.


End file.
